Yeast: a Problem

e summer. 'The waters were necessary for their health.' . . . How wonderful it is, by the bye, that those Germ

day from farm to hamlet, and from field to tramper's tent, in hopes of finding out the secret for himself. What he saw, of course I must not say; for if I did the reviewers would declare, as usual, one and all, that I copied out of the Morning Chronicle; and the fact that these pages, ninety-nine hundredths of them at least, were written two years before the Morning Chronicle began its invaluabl

olution of the question; and he at last ended by a sulky acquiescence in Sam Weller's memorable

eginning to turn over everything else, a new work of

is the matter with us in these da

e-granting, for the sake of argument, any real, living, or practical existence to That Being, might be a radical o

f his own interest, without the allurements of respectability and decency, of habit and custom, he believes in

hand a letter, which kept him at home a while longer-none

the future state . . . heaven, hell, and purgatory . . . What right have they to throw away the latter, and arbitrarily retain the two former? I am told that Scripture gives no warrant for a third state. She says that it does-that it teaches that implicitly, as it teaches other, the very highest doctrines; some hold, the Trinity itself. . . . It may be proved from Scripture; for it may be proved from the love and justice of God revealed in Scripture. The Protestants divide-in theory, that is-mankind into two classes, the righteous, who are destined to infinite bliss; the wicked, who are doomed to infinite torment; in which latter class, to make their arbitrary division exhaustive, they put of course nine hundred and ninety-nine out of the thousand, and doom to everlasting companionship with Borgias and Cagliostros, the gentle, frivolous girl, or the peevish boy, who would have shrunk, in life, with horror from the contact. . . . Well, at least, their hell is hellish enough . . . if it were but just. . . . But I, Lancelot, I cannot believe it! I will not believe it! I had

; for their idea of heaven and ours is the same-with this exception, that theirs will contain but a thin band of saved ones, while ours will fill and grow to all eternity. . . . I tell you, Lancelot, it is just the very doctrines for which England most curses Rome, and this very purgatory at the head of them, which constitute her strength and her alluremen

forgotten a certain talk of ours over Falk Von Müller's Recollections of Goethe, and how you materialists are often the most fantastic of theorists. . . . I do not expect, I say, t

g that the fancy took possession of him, to show the letter to Tregarva? I hope not-perhaps he did not altogether wish to lead him into temptation, any more than I wish to lead my readers, but only to make him, just as I wish to make them, face manfully a real awful question now racking the hearts of hundreds, and see how they will be able to answer the sophist fiend-for honestly, such he is-when their time comes, as come it will. At least he w

lowly; asked, shrewdly enough, the meaning of a word or two as he went on; at last folded it up deliberately, and returned it to its owner with a deep sigh. Lance

to my mind-There's a nice fish on the

Why not a matt

ink a deal too much about many

he do with

s own bu

oncern!-That's rather a cold-bl

him earnestly. His eyes were

as fine a young fellow as ever handled pick, as kind-hearted as a woman, and as honest as the sun in Heaven.-But he would drink, sir;-that one temptat

and the strong man shuddered from head to foot, and beat impatiently o

is he

ng p

y turn, and sat for hours in that level, watching and watching, if perhaps the spirit of him might haunt about, and tell his poor brother one word of news-one way or the other-anything would have be

what then did you

none but His. Do you see that as far as you can no such thing ever happen again, on the face of His earth. And from that day, sir, I gave myself up to that one thing, and wil

poor Luke's spirit were

d so you think, sir. But it's written, and it'

efuse to try to fancy

it. If we can't conceive what God has prepared for those that we know loved Him,

did not do so very wrong in trusting y

you believe

e, sir, that the judge of all the earth will do right-and what's right can't be wrong, nor cruel either, else it would not be like Him who loved us to the death, that's all I know; and that's enough for me. To whom little is giv

of it. He, at least, has not forgotten God. Well, I would give up all the Teleologies and cosmogonies that I ever

I haven't seen the spraint

u see something move

ge, leant over, grappled something-and was instantly, to Lancelot's astonishment, grappled in his

e in. Doan't ye harm the dog! h

you take him off, a

rs carry; pear-shaped and retreating to a narrow peak above, while below, the bleared cheeks, and drooping lips, and peering purblind eyes, perplexed, hopeless, defiant, and yet sneaking, bespeak their share in the 'inheritanc

from his hiding-place in the water, and then stopped suddenly, and

'll surrender to no man but you, Paul

?' And he turned to Lancelot. 'Have pity on the poor c

you doing any harm. Come out like a

stood, abject and shivering, with th

kingfisher's nest: indeed

nes. I saw a minnow lie on the bank a

then-a man mus

quoth Lancelot; 'I cannot say it seems a prospero

ey do him; last time as I went to gaol I gave them him to

sper: as you make your bed, so you must lie in it. The Lord can't be expected to let those prosper that forget Him. What mercy wou

n't do what I knows to be right and good already, there ain't no use i

you!' quot

is time? I do hope you won't have me up to bench. 'Tain't a month now as I'm out o' prizzum along o' they fir-toppings, and I should, you see-' with a look up and down and round at t

s!' thought Lancelot, as his eye wandered from the sad steadfast dignity of the one, to the dogged helpless misery of th

ather the instinct which taught Bacon, teaches you to discern

ht-lines, Crawy,' quot

t ever so well take away the

don't you go and work, instead

rouble? Who'd gie me a day's work, I'd like

y. Time was, when he had looked on a poacher as a Pariah 'hostem humani generis'-and only deplored th

land labour-market, or to pay his passage thither when informed thereof, he has had to choose in the somewhat limited labour-field of the Whitford Priors' union, whose workhouse is already every winter filled with abler-bodied men than he, between starvation-and this-. Well, as for employing him, one would have thought that there was a little work waiting to be done in those five miles of heather and snipe-bog, which I used to tramp over last winter-but those, it seems, are still on the "margin of cultivation," and not a remunerative investment-that is, to capitalists. I wonder if any one had made Crawy a present of ten acres of them when he came of age, and commanded him to till that or be hanged, whether he would not have found it a profitable investment? But bygones are bygones, and there he is, and the moors, thanks to the rights of property-in this case the rights of the dog in the manger-belong to poor old Lavington-that is, the game and timber on them; and neither Crawy nor any one else can touch them. Wha

t are your nig

hilling; ain't they

suppose

trust you with it all at once. I'll give it to Tregarva, and he shall allow you four shi

thought Lancelot, 'if he deserves to be wretched, so do I-why, therefore, if we are one a

minds them as is kind to me'-and a thought seem

ere. I see that Bantam i

he down

a silk flue, I did. So, says I, you maunt be trying that ere along o'

know that. L

ant they a-robbing here; so I think they

grimly enough; 'though I don't think they came,

he should be down here agai

. Let us know, no

e in keeping no devil. But I minds them as has mercy on me, though my name is Crawy. Ay,' he added, bitterly, ''tain't so many

ellow get his n

ng in the banks after craw-fish; and as the devil-for I can think no less-would have it, a big one catches hold of him by the fingers with one claw, and a root with the other, and holds him there till Squire Lavington comes out to take his walk after church, and there he caught the boy, and gave him a thrashing there and then, naked as he stood. And the story got wind,

him for not doing his duty, till it ha

ates its duty, and cries all day long,

e that something is diseased, Tregarva; but to find the medicine f

d will never be mended t

the devil in the old history-which you believe-had had the best of it with a vengeance, when he brought sin into the worl

was silen

something, sir, towards mending it. One would

meaning in them. Come, Tregarva,-Suppose I teach you a little of the learning, and you teach me a li

, sir,' sa

*

were landing the next trout, 'where

, sir,' sa

*

w no answer but Tregarva's, and that, alas! he could not give, for he did not beli

that if you had done so I must have heard of it ere now. I entreat you to tell me the state of the case, for, heathen as I am, I am still an Englishman;

ues and liars, to prevent my having any pleasure in proving Romanists, or any other persons, rogues and liars also. But I am-if not fond of you-at least sufficientl